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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
It
IS
very
warm
,
my
Lord
,
’
replied
the
M
.
C
.
‘
Confounded
,
’
assented
the
Honourable
Mr
.
Crushton
.
‘
Have
you
seen
his
Lordship
’
s
mail
-
cart
,
Bantam
?
’
inquired
the
Honourable
Mr
.
Crushton
,
after
a
short
pause
,
during
which
young
Lord
Mutanhed
had
been
endeavouring
to
stare
Mr
.
Pickwick
out
of
countenance
,
and
Mr
.
Crushton
had
been
reflecting
what
subject
his
Lordship
could
talk
about
best
.
‘
Dear
me
,
no
,
’
replied
the
M
.
C
.
‘
A
mail
-
cart
!
What
an
excellent
idea
.
Re
-
markable
!
’
‘
Gwacious
heavens
!
’
said
his
Lordship
,
‘
I
thought
evewebody
had
seen
the
new
mail
-
cart
;
it
’
s
the
neatest
,
pwettiest
,
gwacefullest
thing
that
ever
wan
upon
wheels
.
Painted
wed
,
with
a
cweam
piebald
.
’
‘
With
a
real
box
for
the
letters
,
and
all
complete
,
’
said
the
Honourable
Mr
.
Crushton
.
‘
And
a
little
seat
in
fwont
,
with
an
iwon
wail
,
for
the
dwiver
,
’
added
his
Lordship
.
‘
I
dwove
it
over
to
Bwistol
the
other
morning
,
in
a
cwimson
coat
,
with
two
servants
widing
a
quarter
of
a
mile
behind
;
and
confound
me
if
the
people
didn
’
t
wush
out
of
their
cottages
,
and
awest
my
pwogwess
,
to
know
if
I
wasn
’
t
the
post
.
Glorwious
—
glorwious
!
’
At
this
anecdote
his
Lordship
laughed
very
heartily
,
as
did
the
listeners
,
of
course
.
Then
,
drawing
his
arm
through
that
of
the
obsequious
Mr
.
Crushton
,
Lord
Mutanhed
walked
away
.
‘
Delightful
young
man
,
his
Lordship
,
’
said
the
Master
of
the
Ceremonies
.
‘
So
I
should
think
,
’
rejoined
Mr
.
Pickwick
drily
.
